


New Years Eve

by novadiablo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, New Years Eve, celebration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novadiablo/pseuds/novadiablo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On New Years Eve writer couldn't get the image of Sherlock and John watching fireworks out of her head. This happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this as I go. I'm not used to staying up this late. Less than an hour til 2013.

John had been down for the last three weeks. The source of the unhappiness was, of course, clear – the recent break up with girlfriend number #12 (post-return, full name Anastasia Monique Kozlova, 34 years and six months old, relationship length: four months and three days, number of intimate relations events: six); what wasn’t clear was why John was still being affected by it. John had only ever taken this long to bounce back in two other instances (pre-hiatus, full name Jenna Cathaway, 32 years and four months old, relationship length: five months and one week, number of intimate relations events: nine and mid-hiatus, full name Mary Morstan (dec’d), 35 years and four months old, relationship length: 1.5 years, number of intimate relations events: uncounted).

Sherlock had been sure, he thought as he hit his violin bow gently against the cushion, that John had not really been bothered with Kozlova. His observations had found John sloppy replying to texts, willing to ignore phone calls at non-vital points in cases and slow and reluctant to organise dates. Nonetheless, something must be done. So, at 5:30am on the 31st of December, Sherlock Holmes made a call.

 

~

John removed himself from his bed at precisely 7:22am, eight minutes before the alarm he had set for himself sounded (Observation John #721 continues to be sound). He spent thirty-five seconds rummaging through his room before stepping into the hall. His shower lasted twelve minutes and fourteen seconds (Observation John #26 205 continues to be sound), and he spent four minutes, six seconds miscellaneously preening, before stepping into the hallway and down the stairs. While enjoying his continued morning ritual (tea brewed 3.25 minutes – strong, toast burnt on left side as per usual, jam thickness 15mm (apricot)) he took approximately 18.5 minutes to bring up the significance of the morning.

“New Year’s Eve tonight,” he said as he slumped into his chair. He would enjoy the softness for approximately 13.75 minutes before standing, washing his cup and then plate, placing them in the drainer, drying his hand on the yellow tea towel (due to the ‘no experiments on yellow tea towels’ guideline (rule)) and hunting around for his keys.

“Mmm,” Sherlock replied after twenty-six seconds. He was staring at the ceiling.

“Got any plans?” John asked around a mouthful of toast. Sherlock refused to find this endearing.

“Yes,” he replied tonelessly.

John’s ‘oh’ sounded small. He then proceeded to do all of the things Sherlock had predicted. Just as John was grabbing at his coat he spoke up again. “I’ll expect you to be ready by 5:30 this evening. Wear something warm.”

The inconceivably pleased smile on John’s face did not warm Sherlock in the slightest. Nope. Not at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting tired already. Fifteen minutes til 2013. Reference: Sherlock: http://fashionstorez.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/suits-2011.jpg (the left), John: http://www.voltcafe.com/home/wp-content/uploads/gq-milan17.jpg

John pulled on his heavy overcoat and gloves at the door to their flat and began to wonder whether Sherlock had just been pulling his leg. He hadn’t seen the man all afternoon, only heeded his directions, and he glanced at his Vacheron Constantin watch that had been a ‘late Christmas gift’ from Mycroft once they were on speaking terms again. Just as the hand clicked over to 5:30, the doorbell buzzed. John grabbed his wallet and jumped down the stairs, opening the door to find a Mr Sherlock Holmes standing at his doorstep. He was surrounded by the activity of Baker Street, his steel grey English cut suit outlined by a softer coat that usual, though he was still sans tie. His hair was parted on the right and slicked to the sides and he held a bottle of wine with a name John couldn’t even pronounce. He said nothing but flicked his head and they began their walk.

John felt underdressed; he’d opted for a simple white shirt under a soft indigo blazer and some vivid blue jeans, though his black coat helped a small amount. He tucked his hands in against the cold breeze of the night. “So, where are we off to?” he asked, glancing at Sherlock before looking ahead again, but Sherlock just smirked – actually, he smiled.

"You’ll see," he said, tilting his head forward. He took a turn John recognised, and then a series of others he knew like the back of his hand.

“Angelo’s?” John asked, and he nodded approvingly.

“Unless you have an objection?” His eyebrows raised.

“Never do,” John shot back, and within minutes they were there, stepping in out of the cold. Sherlock helped him out of his coat and a pair of women in the corner tittered. John sat down at their usual, complete with candle and two glasses of wine. John was only halfway through pulling off his gloves when Angelo came bouncing over.

“Ah, my two favourite customers,” he said only mildly loudly as he took the wine from Sherlock and began pouring them both a glass. “Just the usual for you then?” he asked, and there was a silence before John realised Sherlock was waiting for him to answer.

“Yeah, thanks, Angelo,” he said, and both men gave him a warm smile. He turned to Sherlock, placing his gloves by him on the table.

“So, good day?”

“Yes, very productive, I managed to completely dissolve the ostrich eggs with no further explosions…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, HAPPY NEW YEAR, I'm doing more now okay

John finished his Linguini with Clam sauce, and even managed to fit in one of Angelo’s specialty Pandoro breads while Sherlock spoke about his latest experiments, deduced the patients he’d had at the clinic that day and then continued to deduce (quietly, thank god) the patrons of the restaurant, while eating half a lasagne himself. At almost exactly seven o’clock a taxi rolled up in the street next to Angelo’s, and it wasn’t driven by a serial killer, which was something John always appreciated. Sherlock looked expectantly at him. “If you’re ready, John, we should be moving on.”

John nodded and didn’t bother to ask where; he’d get his answer eventually, one way or another. They stood and donned their coats, giving a quick wave to Angelo who called out a hearty ‘happy new year!’ and stepped out into the cool. They were quick about slipping into the cab, with Sherlock holding the door and ducking in just seconds later. The cabbie – and elderly man with an impressive moustache – seemed to know where he was going, because he just nodded to Sherlock and they took off into the street.

“This is unusually kind of you, Sherlock.” John stated carefully. Sherlock shifted a bit.

“I can be kind,” he insisted, looking straight ahead.

“I know you can. It’s just that you’re usually not.” John said, but his words weren’t harsh. He was simply stating fact, and Sherlock loved facts.

“It’s not usually necessary or beneficial in any way,” Sherlock argued, and John got it, suddenly. His smile did warm Sherlock this time, he’d readily admit it.

“Well I appreciate it.”

Sherlock nodded and they continued in a companionable silence to their destination – Barbican Arts Centre. They stepped out of the cab and Sherlock thanked the driver, who John recognised as one of Mycroft’s men, and they made their way through the building to a desk, where Sherlock spoke in low tones to a woman in a tight shirt there. It pleased Sherlock to see that John barely glanced at her, his eyes gazing around the room.

Sherlock walked back to where John was standing and handed him a ticket. “The Viennese New Year’s Eve Ga… wow, Sherlock, I’ve been dying to see this for years.”

“I’m aware,” he said, and the knowing smirk on his face matched his words.

“How did you even get tickets, they’ve been sold out for ages?”

Sherlock's enigmatic half-smile was back again and he nodded towards an exhibit. “I thought we could kill time in the Rain Room that Random International created,” he said, eyes staying focussed on the exhibit. “It’s supposed to be quite surreal.”

They stepped into the room and it was surreal, being surrounded by rain and remaining absolutely dry. Sherlock refrained from explaining how the whole thing worked in favour of gazing around and simply enjoying the illusion. He smiled – actually smiled – at John and not for the first time John found that he would quite like to kiss him. For the first time, though, he found that he thought he could.

Instead he bumped against Sherlock’s side with his hands in his pockets and they made their way from the room completely dry to where the theatre was filling up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is getting increasingly bad I'm sorry.

John and Sherlock spewed out of the theatre with the rest of the crowd and found a place to stand without being bowled over by suit-wearing gentlemen and jewel-encrusted women. John blinked a few times before looking at Sherlock.

“That – was amazing,” he said, and his smile could easily have replaced all light sources in the room, which had been Sherlock’s plan. “Really, Sherlock, I know these things are usually your area, but I really enjoyed that.”

He looked up at Sherlock through his eyelashes. “Thankyou.”

“It was my pleasure, John.” Sherlock said, because he didn’t really know what else to say and he didn’t want to ruin a nice night by putting his words into actions. “It wasn’t entirely selfless, I enjoyed it myself.”

John smiled, and Sherlock nodded towards the door and they weaved through the congested crowd to burst outside into the bitter and relative quiet of the street. There were a number of cabs waiting to pick up patrons and the two men both slid into the first one swiftly.

“As close as you can get to the north side viewing area of the Thames,” Sherlock demanded, and the cabbie looked at him as if he were insane.

“You’ll never get in there, sir, they closed the gates at 9:30, or so the radio said.”

“You’d be surprised.”

The man just shrugged and did as he was bid, while silence reigned in the back of the cab. After many heavily trafficked streets of this, John finally spoke up.

“What is this, Sherlock?”

He looked over to find Sherlock looked resolutely out of the window.

“Is this a date?”

Silence.

“Why?”

This time Sherlock spoke. “You’ve been… upset, lately. I don’t enjoy seeing you like that – feeling like you’re unwanted. I simply wanted to remind you that you are. Wanted.”

John smiled and threaded his fingers through Sherlock’s shaking hand.

“Thanks.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry guys, I thought I'd put this up.

The drive wasn’t a long one to their viewing area, which happened to be directly in front of the London eye on the north side of the Thames. The gates were closed, but Sherlock flashed a card (likely Mycroft’s) and a man nodded and began to lead them through the throng of Londoners to a prime position not far from the water’s edge. The entire time Sherlock didn’t release John’s hand, though it could simply have been so he didn’t lose him in the bustling of the people around them. They stood in a small space directly before the barrier surrounded by people and when the security guard left them to their own devices they were effectively crushed by the huge amount of people. Despite this, they managed to find a place to sit down, planning to stand again when the countdown neared time.

They sat on their coats – it was warm surrounded by so many people. Sherlock recaptured his hand when they were seated and John just smiled and gazed out over the Thames.

“This doesn’t seem like your scene, surrounded by so many people.” He all but yelled to Sherlock, who raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement.

“It is yours though, isn’t it? I’m not incapable of making compromises.”

“Where’s that mentality when you want to do experiments on exploding badgers in the living room?” John jokes, and Sherlock smirks once again.

“Science makes no compromises, Watson,” he joked back, and then startled a bit when the crowd around them screamed out a border-line vicious “TEN!” He looked up and an enormous red number ten because a nine in the centre of the London Eye and both he and John jumped up to watch the countdown. Sherlock watched as John joined in the screaming counting, looking totally at ease and excited in the environment.

The man’s eyes slid over to look at him watching John, and then there was a cold gloved hand on his face and then lips on his as the crowd screamed louder than ever and the crackling and popping of what would promise to be an impressive fireworks show began. Sherlock’s eyes fluttering closed, and but John’s stayed open as they kissed softly, and he watched the play of colours on the pale skin of Sherlock’s forehead. When they parted they gave each other gentle smiles before John snaked an arm around Sherlock, pulling him closer and leaning his head on the taller man’s shoulder, and like that they watched the bright lights signalling a new year.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last little bit. Enjoy 2013 guys

A week later John trumped up the stairs, pulling off a wet coat and running his fingers through his hair, causing it to spike a little before wilting to the weight of the water. He pulled off his shoes and made his way into their warm living area. He was halfway through making tea before he noticed it – a black photo frame on the mantelpiece that hadn’t been there when he’d left. He picked it up and what he saw there made him smile like an idiot. Someone – likely of Mycroft’s crew – had managed to take a photo of Sherlock and himself kissing during the fireworks display the other night – behind them was the London Eye, which framed them nicely, and five multi-coloured explosions in the air. In front of them, their hands were entwined by their hips and John’s other hand was raised to Sherlock’s face. Sherlock had his eyes closed and John’s were open and it was the loveliest photo he’d ever seen. It was the only photo on display in the whole flat, John noticed. He opened the frame and looked at the back of the photo. He noticed Sherlock’s scrawl right away, the same scrawl that carefully notated the back of crime scene photographs. He smiled at the caption.

 _John + Sherlock_  
First Kiss  
New Years Eve 2015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it 2015 so it gives Sherlock some time to get back and usual.


End file.
